


Snap Crackle Thrust

by unholy_grail



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Demons, Asphyxiation, Bad Ending, Blood, Blow Jobs, Broken Bones, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Demons, Demonstuck, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Gore, Holy Water, Hypnosis, Lung Fucking, M/M, Masochism, Mind Break, No Aftercare, Not Beta Read, Overstimulation, Puppet Transformation, Sadism, Tentacles, Torture, Unauthorized Use Of Holy Water, Unauthorized Use Of Speculum, Waterboarding, Wound Fucking, do not read, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26313280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unholy_grail/pseuds/unholy_grail
Summary: Hal, prince of the underworld itself and brother to Lucifer (Dirk, obviously), is royally fucked. Or, rather, he did royally fuck, and now he's going to pay the consequences, brought to you by hell's #1 Best Torturer and #1 Worst Dad.If you read this... I'm so sorry. It's as bad as the tags would have you think.
Relationships: Auto-Responder | Lil Hal/Lord English
Kudos: 8





	Snap Crackle Thrust

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: I didn't have it in me to beta read this.

Lord English was sat at his massive, mahogany desk, in the center of the large, dimly lit room. He knew to expect Hal. Dirk- the king of hell- had told him he would be down for a... Disciplinary visit. The moment the other entered the room, he would be nearly floored by the impressive aura of English's true form. It was obscured, fortunately, a large cloak covering his body. Contact with his visage was a torment saved for the worst of the worst.

Hal walked in quietly, keeping his grip on the door handle. He closed it behind him slowly, his bright red eyes glowing with fear. He glanced over at English, chewing at the inside of his cheek nervously. Every part of his body screamed for him to run. To get out. But at the same time… He felt substantially weaker due to the effect of his true form. “Sir...” he greeted, his voice hardly above a whisper.

English didn't look up, tapping his huge claws on the table. He could smell the fear radiating off of Hal, and it fueled him.  
"Sit down," he said sharply, voice low and gravely, with a rumble that made Hal's hair stand on end. He seemed completely unconcerned with him, keeping his eyes poised on a book- it looked like an encyclopedia, but it was dwarfed in his enormous hand- flipping the pages casually. 

"I hear you're in trouble."

Hal moved forward, sitting down quickly. He folded and unfolded his hands in his lap, shifting in his seat. His scarlet eyes watched his claws constantly, flinching at any movement he made. He remembered those. How could he forget them. Just the sight of ‘em seemed to make the scars on his back burn. “More or less,” he answered softly. “More or less.”

If Hal looked closely under English's hood, he could see him grinning. Long dark tongue peeking out ever so slightly to lick those fangs of his, like he was tasting the fear in the air. English could see how he flinched at every movement, so he made an effort to move as much as possible, continuously tapping his claws against the desk, putting his book into a nearby drawer, sitting up right so he wasn't just taller than Hal, he towered over him. "What are you in for?" 

Hal closed his eyes tightly, taking deep breaths. “It’s something from... about a thousand years ago,” he answered slowly. “Dirk found out and...” He didn’t continue, instead he dug his claws into his legs slightly. He opened his eyes again, watching the knife and his claws and his fangs. 

“What’d he tell you to do with me?” Hal’s mind had been spinning with possibilities since he’d been told to show up, and they really weren’t pretty.

English chuckled- a deep rumbling, that almost sounded like a train approaching in the distance- and it shook Hal to his very core. He slowly put the knife down, tapping both sets of claws on the table, before he stood up. He was hunched over the table, leaning menacingly over Hal, but even like this, he seemed almost 20 feet tall. He got closer and closer, until Hal could see red eyes glowing from beneath his hood, could smell the blood on his breath. English waited just a second, for impact, before quoting Dirk's words. " 'Go nuts.' "

Hal flinched, his claws definitely digging in hard enough to cause him to bleed slightly. If he was terrified before, he was absolutely paralyzed with fear now. He gave off a constant, steady aura of panic, his eyes wide. He mumbled under his breath in the demonic language, his tail lashing behind him nervously.

At those words, English just came closer, purring threateningly as one of his massive paws raised up. The span of his single hand could easily wrap around Hal's shoulders, but instead, he squeezed his finger and his thumb around his neck, choking him as he lifted him up from his seat. "Unfortunately for you, I have orders. Nobody can save you now. Savor that last breath- you won't be getting another one."

Hal struggled instantly, clawing at English’s hand. He was panicking, and the lack of air made it worse. He squirmed and dug his claws in, staring at English with tears in his eyes. His words caused him to shudder, and his thoughts immediately reeled. Surely Dirk hadn’t said that English could kill him, had he? Maybe he’d pushed too far this time. He let out a whimper, trying to ignore how the fear turned him on.

English laughed at Hal's struggles, just squeezing tighter as he tried to get out of his grip. The other's claws didn't affect him- his skin was far too thick- but it did irritate him. He stood tall, raising Hal with him, before walking to one of the stone walls of the room, and slamming him into it. "How pathetic. You really think you can struggle. Have you forgotten my power just that much? I'll have to remind you."

Hal hit the wall with a harsh noise, whatever air he had left being forced out of him. He was winded, his struggles slowly stopping. He looked up at him with wide eyes, gripping onto his hand tightly. “Please... no...” he managed to hiss out, starting to shake. He hadn’t forgotten. He couldn’t have. He felt the stone of the wall digging into the scars on his back, causing him to wince.

He seemed amused by Hal's fight, and how it slowly came to a halt. The pleading look in his eyes, the shaking in his bones... It made him feel some twisted sense of pride. Hal could see him grin as he pulled him away from the wall, just to slam him against it again, before dropping him to the floor.  
"It's interesting how you think you have a say in this. How you think I have any inclination to give you mercy. You have done nothing to make me pity you," he chided, stepping down on Hal's chest. Not enough to hurt, but enough to put firm pressure on every inch of his body.

Hal coughed loudly and sucked in as much air as he could as he hit the floor. He froze as he was stepped on, his eyes never leaving English’s face. His expression was a mix of pain and arousal that he hated with everything he had. He coughed again, his voice hoarse, “Did Dirk say you could kill me...?”

English just raised his eyebrows, expression so deadpan that it was impossible for Hal to get an answer. "I suppose you'll find out," he growled, cracking his knuckles idly. Unfortunately for Hal, he could see that bit of arousal in his expression. He wasn't going to comment on it just yet, but he sure as hell planned on making use of it.

Hal closed his eyes, leaning his head back. He seemed resigned to take whatever was thrown at him. Maybe it was his self-loathing, maybe it was English’s aura. He couldn’t say. He focused on breathing as much as he could, opening his eyes slightly.

He rolled his eyes, kicking Hal in the ribs to try and get a reaction from him. "Up. Now. Don't make me wait. Go get on the table, on your stomach. We're giving you back your wings." Normally, that would sound like a blessing... But from English, it could only cause pain.

Hal coughed harshly, his body shaking as he stood. His eyes widened and he flinched, wheezing. He moved over to the table, laying on top of it and biting his lip. This wouldn’t be pleasant, he knew that all too well. He took a couple deep, shaky breaths as he closed his eyes. “Just get it over with,” he hissed through his teeth.

"Sass me one more time," English growled, not finishing the sentence as he walked over, and opened the drawer. His hand automatically moved to a 'small' scalpel, only looking miniature in his massive paw. "The first step in any surgery... Is the incision." He made two long cuts down Hal's back, mimicking where the old scars were. He wasn't even right. The first step is sanitization. Get it right.

Hal screeched, his claws digging into the table. He let his forehead hit the surface, his breathing heavy as he tried to distract himself from the pain. He felt every tiny movement of the scalpel, his old scars burning in agony.

English just snorted, pausing to raise a brow at Hal. "Screaming already? I think you've lost your touch. We're barely started." He rolled his eyes and put the scalpel down when he was finished, reaching instead for a huge pair of pliers. "Open wide."

“I haven’t been fuckin’ tortured in a couple centuries...” he muttered, the pain already going to his head. He wouldn’t be this bold under normal circumstances. He looked back at him, pain clouding his eyes. He wasn’t going to like this, he knew that. He gritted his teeth, closing his eyes and resting his head on the table.

He didn't even seem phased, clicking the pliers a few times out of reflex. "Get over it," he grunted, trailing the metal across his skin a few times, pressing it in, getting a map of his bones. Once he was satisfied with the survey, he moved over to the left side, and stabbed into the incision with the pliers.

Hal bit down on his pained yell, his tail thrashing behind him. He was definitely going to leave claw marks on the table, but he didn’t care about that in the moment. He needed to focus on anything else to keep the pain from overtaking him.

English drew in a deep breath, before pushing Hal down with his other hand, getting leverage so he could dig in deeper. He finally found what he was looking for- a rib- and grabbed on tight with the pliers. "This is going to hurt you much more than it's going to hurt me.

Hal braced himself as much as he could, closing his eyes tighter. He could feel the pliers every time he breathed or moved, and he tried to hold as still as possible. He was nowhere near prepared for this, but he doubted that it mattered.

Lord English gripped the pliers tight and pulled, almost instantly snapping the rib, before he pulled it up to stick out, the grotesque shape resembling the bones of a wing. He didn't even seem to mind the sight in front of him, deciding to just clinically move to the other side and do the same.

Hal let out another screech of agony, thrashing as soon as it was complete. He felt like his entire body was on fire, his screams only stopping after his voice broke.

Hal could hear English snort at his misery, but he didn't stop, instead pulling a few more up before he set the pliers down. He then walked around, grabbing a few more supplies. It was only after that that Hal would feel a prodding at the holes where his ribs used to be, becoming more and more insistent until it finally punctured his lungs.

Hal’s harsh breaths turned into loud wheezes, his eyes flying open. He tried to lift himself up, squirming to get away. He collapsed with a thud as he tried his hardest to keep some air in his lungs.

Seeing Hal struggle and squirm was too much, English couldn't help but laugh. He walked around in front of him, and curled a claw under his chin, tilting it up to look towards him. "Tell me. Does it hurt?"

Hal coughed harshly, his body shaking with every breath. He could hardly answer, his eyes closing slightly. He could hardly feel anything but pain and the blood dripping down his back.  
English backhanded him across the face harshly, before grabbing him by the chin again, pulling his face close. 

"Answer me. Does it hurt?" His other hand was fiddling with the slacks under his cloak, giving a small indication of what was to come.

Hal coughed more, a small amount of blood falling from his lips. He nodded, staring up at him with pain dulling his eyes. “So much...” he whispered. His eyes moved to English’s other hand, letting out a weak noise of protest.

He just grinned down at Hal, murmuring softly, "but you like the pain, don't you?" He let Hal's head fall again as he used both hands to jerk down his waistband, revealing a fucking twelve inch monster. A soft twelve inch monster.

Hal whined quietly, closing his eyes. “Love it...” he murmured, eying his cock. He hated himself so much for being horny like this, and the pain in his back seemed to agree.

"Then take this," he growled, putting the flaccid tip to Hal's mouth. It was already a stretch for his jaw, and they hadn't even started yet. "You're going to make me hard, and once I've made your throat swell up, I'm going to fuck each of your fucking wounds."

Hal sucked softly, closing his eyes. He’d take it, even though he didn’t have much of a choice either way. His mind was already slipping due to the pain and the intensity of English’s aura. He’d be almost too obedient by the end of this.

As gentle as Hal was, English didn't really care. He grabbed onto Hal's head and shoved down into his throat, his cock already beginning to grow a little. "Hmph. You're enjoying this. Masochistic slut. It's more fun when you scream, but we'll take care of that."

Hal moaned around his cock at his words, squirming a bit. He looked up at him, whining from how much he wanted this. He wanted to be absolutely fucking destroyed.

Luckily for him, English was a master at destroying people. It was, quite literally, his job title. He just shoved in deeper, forcibly prying Hal's throat apart, going in deep despite resistance. Nothing could stop him if it wanted to.

Hal choked slightly, the wounds on his back fluttering with every desperate attempt to breathe. He looked almost blissed out, clearly enjoying the depravity of the scene he was in.

The fluttering just brought a grin to English's face, and he gave another deep shove, hitting his balls to the other's chin. Experimentally, he grabbed the tube that split between his lungs, and instead of hooking it up- that would come later- he spat into it.

Hal whined, sucking harshly on his cock. He gasped loudly at the feeling, squirming more. He opened his eyes and looked up at him, letting his teeth drag over his skin gently.

English groaned quietly, his cock fully erect now, threatening to break the other's jaw in half. Usually he would admonish Hal for using his teeth, but his skin was thick, so it made no difference.

Hal choked on his cock, his claws scratching at the table as he tried to pull away. He coughed around the length, his back arching as he tried to get more air.

Despite the protests, English just shoved him back down with one massive paw. He wouldn't be given air, he wouldn't be given release. He had one purpose, and that was to serve.

Hal closed his eyes, falling limp from the force. He squirmed under his grip, starting to get lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. His tail flicked weakly. Thankfully for Hal, Lord English was getting close. He kept thrusting, faster and faster, before he finally, with a loud grunt, released down his throat. His load was larger than it had any right to be, making him feel full inside.

Hal moaned loudly, swallowing as much as he could. Some ran down his chin as his eyes rolled back into his head and he shifted his hips to get some friction. He really was a fucked up little masochist, huh?

English pulled out and dropped Hal down with little regard for him, walking around to attach the tube in his chest to a large water cooler. Holy water, of course. The best refreshment for demons. "If you like pain, this should satisfy those little urges of yours," he mumbled, turning the drip on to leak fluid through the tubes.

Hal coughed up some of his load, turning his head in a daze to look at him. He watched the cooler curiously, his vision swimming as he breathed. As soon as the liquid hit his lungs he let out a loud, unrestrained moan, his body shivering.

He knew Hal was masochistic of course. But the moan genuinely caught him off guard. He almost looked hesitant for a moment, before scoffing, and walking away to gather more supplies. "You're sick."

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he coughed out, squirming from the mixed pain and pleasure. He hardly let anyone know just how sick he was, just how much he liked stuff like this. Only a few people knew, and he’d keep it that way.

"Perhaps I'll tell others," he scoffed, knowing that would have the desired effect. "The entire kingdom could come see your depravity if they so desired. The door is unlocked. Then again, you might just like that more." A small growl left him, and he walked back into view, holding a device that looked like a speculum.

Hal growled in response, his tail lashing as he tried to ignore his pleasure. “You wouldn’t,” he hissed, shuddering as more holy water filled him. Though, the thought of being watched caused him to moan quietly. He glanced at the device, backing up slightly.

"I would," he said curtly and unaffected, taking slight notice of the moan. He walked over to Hal's right side and ripped one of the tubes out, nonchalantly forcing the speculum into the wound. "You know what this does?"

Hal hissed in pain, gritting his teeth. “I have an idea,” he snarled as his eyes narrowed. He tried his best to relax, curling his tail around his leg to keep it still.

"It goes a little something like this," English growled, before opening up the speculum, gouging out the wound to let in plenty of air. "Roll onto your side. I need better access."

Another half-scream was ripped from Hal’s lips as squirmed and shifted into his side. He was breathing heavily, a rough wheeze coming from him. He let out a whine at the lack of pressure on his cock, rubbing his thighs together.

He rolled his eyes as he noticed how Hal squirmed his thighs together, looking so very desperate. Unfortunately, his pleasure meant nothing to English. He ripped out the speculum, before pressing the tip of his cock into the wound.

Hal froze up almost instantly, actually screeching at the pain. He could feel the stream of blood intensifying at the stretch. Fresh waves of agony rolled over his body, causing him to try to pull himself away from English’s cock.

He didn't seem to care in the slightest, instead just reaching a massive paw down to drag him back closer. He forced himself in with little regard, grunting at how tight and wet it was. "Hmph. The one thing you're good for."

Hal coughed loudly, trying to struggle free. The skin and muscle around the wounds rippled with every movement he made, causing him to let out more agonized noises. Why the fuck did his masochism have to enjoy this in some way? The sting of more holy water filling his lungs dragged him out of his mind, and he coughed some of the tinted red, liquid up.

There was no struggling against English, though, especially when Hal was weakened like this. Even at full strength, it would be near impossible to get free from those claws. With every breath Hal took, the beast seemed to derive some pleasure from the muscles tensing up- soon enough, he'd made it in far enough to hit the other side of the lung.

Hal coughed instantly, his body spasming in a feeble attempt to clear up his lungs. His struggles were growing weaker as it continued, his eyes clouding over from pain and the hypnosis that always seemed to overcome English’s victims.

English, being the sick bastard he was, seemed almost disappointed that Hal's struggles diminished. Not only did the squirming provide some extra stimulation for him, but it was so entertaining to watch him suffer. He supposed there would be plenty of time for that later, though. He began to thrust in and out roughly, still feeling sensitive from his last release. He was determined to cum inside Hal, and after that... He was going to fix him up as an office decoration for the next few hours, something the other would probably find enjoyment in.

Hal whined with his eyes closed, more liquid bubbling at his lips with each thrust. His breathing grew ragged and harsher, causing his body to squirm around him quicker. His whole body felt like it was on fire from pure pain of it all and the twisted pleasure of being used with no regard. He wanted to pass out, and he was sure he would, he just didn’t know what would cause him to.

Lord English was now paying no attention to him at all, just going faster and faster as another climax approached. He didn't want Hal to pass out, didn't want him escaping so easily, but he was completely focused on this at the moment. He kept going, rougher still, until he finally came, ejaculating directly into Hal's lung.

Hal’s body thrashed and spasmed as he hacked it up, tears streaming down his face. He felt like he couldn’t breathe and, really, he couldn’t. He collapsed onto the table, still conscious, but incredibly worn out.

He just laughed at Hal's misery, pulling out before commanding, "heal yourself". To most that would sound like a blessing, but Hal knew it just meant that there was more to come. Not only that- but he had to heal himself with so much fluid still trapped in his lungs.

Hal whimpered quietly, pushing himself up. He focused on healing his body. He ignored the way his bones twisted and snapped back into place, or the way his lungs and skin sealed back together. He coughed up more of the fluid, staring at the disgusting mix of blood and cum and water. “Happy?” he croaked weakly.

"Better," he purred harshly, cleaning his cock on Hal's hair before he went and sat down in his office chair again. "Now, come here. Sit. On my desk." He offered no further explanation, instead reaching into a drawer to retrieve a small, white ball.

He nodded and stood up shakily, his tail curling around his waist. As if that would keep any part of him safe. His balance was a little off as he stumbled over to English’s desk and sat down.

"Good." He looked up to Hal, and prodded his lips with a single claw, dragging his mouth open. "I've got a treat for you. This will make you… Obedient."

Hal raised an eyebrow, staring at him with a confused expression. “The hell is it?” he asked, tilting his head. He was tired, and sore, and still uncomfortably horny.

"Did I say you could speak?" He snapped, slapping Hal across the face. Considering his size and strength, though, it could hardly be considered a slap- it was only enough to sting. 

Hal rubbed his stinging cheek, muttering a quiet apology. He looked at him, straightening up and nodding. He didn’t say anything, just opened his mouth slightly.

He nodded, and quickly placed the small ball at Hal's lips, pushed it onto his tongue, and nudged his jaw closed with a single claw. "Good. Now swallow. Like a pill."

Hal swallowed slowly, crossing and uncrossing his legs. He was curious as to what came next, but he knew better than to speak out of turn. He was already in deep shit.

English watched him closely, almost glaring while he waited for it to kick in. The first change Hal would notice was his heart beat- it slowed down, became far to strong. It was in sync with the demon sat right in front of him. Next, his limbs would seem to stiffen up, before going limp. If he looked down at himself, he was turning into a puppet, fingers and toes turning into porcelain-like imitations, rounded off with ball joints.

Hal blinked a few times in confusion, his breath catching in his throat. Why did all of this shit have to turn him on so much? He looked at English, blinking as he carefully breathed through his nostrils. He wasn’t sure how this would go, but he knew he’d end up liking it in either a good way or a twisted and depraved way.

In response to Hal's questioning look, English stroked a finger along the side of his jaw, smirking while he saw his skin change over. Hal would find that his body became much more sensitive as it was transformed, with even the light brush of air against it sending shivers down his spine. "Do you feel good?" He growled, tracing his claws down the other's chest.

Hal shuddered with a soft moan, nodding. He already had goosebumps, his neglected cock twitching and leaking at the air. He whined, high-pitched and needy, rolling his hips up with desperation. “P-Please...” he whispered weakly.

"You're really still aroused right now?" He cackled, giving Hal a downright predatory look. With that, he summoned... Well, what looked like a simple fucking tube. Except for the chain and lock on it. "Well, since you asked so nicely... I suppose I'll oblige you."

Hal looked at the tube, whining again. He rubbed his thighs together, closing his eyes. He wanted more so badly, he was horny and desperate, his mind slipping further under the hypnosis. He wanted to cum so fucking bad.

English flipped the cap open, clinically aside from his smirk, to reveal what was inside- a wet, gooey, writhing inside, with a long tendril at the very end. He slid it easily onto Hal's cock, which, transformed as it was, seemed to be almost made of rubber. Once it was all the way on, torturing every nerve in his cock, he wrapped the chain around him and locked it tight, making sure it was secure before it began to suck.

Hal couldn’t hold back the loud moans that spilled from his lips, his fingers gripping the edge. He bucked his hips up quickly, falling back onto the desk and covering his face with his arm. It felt so good, way too good. He clenched his fists, his face screwing up from the pleasure.

He wouldn't have any of that, quickly manipulating Hal's puppet like body to sit upright, with his arms raised up towards the ceiling. "All spread out for me. This is for my entertainment, don't you fucking forget it. It's my show. You only cum when I say so, and once I do, you're not allowed to fucking stop. Am I understood?"

Hal’s moans were loud again in an instant, and he nodded quickly. “Yes, sir,” he confirmed, rolling his hips up into the toy. His muscles twitched as he sat there, but his body stayed perfectly upright. It turned him on way too much to be used like this.

English leaned back, watching him with a cruel, satisfied grin. He gave him a small nod before turning back to the center of his desk, resuming his paperwork while Hal suffered there right next to them, filling the room with his moans and please. He was just going to leave him like that.

Hal continued to squirm and shake, a range of noises from whimpers to cries forcing their way past his lips. He sounded desperate in a beautifully masochistic way. Anyone walking by could likely hear him, though part of him wondered who would be close enough to English’s office to hear. That, of course, only turned him on more. His shoulders burned slightly from the pull of holding his arms up, but it felt so right.

He hummed softly as he continued to work, thoroughly enjoying the orchestra of moans and cries coming from the toy right next to him. It was music to his ears, the perfect soundtrack to distract him as he worked. When he got bored, he occasionally reached a hand over, stroking a claw across Hal's taint and balls, just to tease him even more.

Hal would tense up every time, choking on whatever noise he was making before melting into another loud string of moans. His cock twitched within the toy, loud and unrestrained noises filling the room. Tears were rolling down his cheeks again, and he bucked his hips up desperately. It was so fucking tight. It hurt how badly he wanted to cum, but his body was already forcing him to listen to English’s demands, he wouldn’t cum until told.

Hal's visible distress only made him grin more, and the only clear option was to make things worse. English grabbed the tube and started pumping it back and forth, milking his cock like there was no tomorrow. Despite this, he gave him no sort of permission to cum, not even to get close. He just had to take it.

Hal would’ve collapsed if he wasn’t being held up, his body shaking as desperate cries sounded from him. His mind was growing fuzzier with each second, and he couldn’t control the words spilling from his lips. “P-Please! Please please pleasepleaseplease—“ he was just short of sobbing, grinding and fucking into the tube like his life depended on it.

The sound made a loud purr bubble up from in English's chest, and he looked over Hal with an expression that might be adjacent to fondness. "Not yet," he growled, pumping harder and faster with each passing second. He was going to break Hal with denial, and then he was going to do it again with over stimulation. He wasn't going to stop until he was left with a perfectly obedient, flawless little puppet.

At those words, Hal went slack, still being held up by his arms. He felt like he was about to explode, he’d been horny for what felt like hours. His head hung forward, tears rolling down his face and his eyes closed. Between his pants and noises were soft, broken little pleas. He’d do anything to cum. It was bordering on painful at this point.

English waited for several moments, what probably felt like minutes, getting faster and faster, milking every bit of desperate pleasure he could out of Hal. When he felt like his toy just might crumble apart and pass out, he finally muttered the command, soft, but coherent enough to give Hal what he needed. "Cum."

He writhed as his orgasm overtook him, his vision going white. He screamed out from the pleasure, twitching and crying. It felt so good, too good. His mind was practically blank with the ongoing pleasure and how hard he came, leaving him sensitive to the hypnosis overtaking him. He cried and moaned weakly, trying to pull away from the toy.

Unfortunately for Hal, the toy was locked on tight around him, even if English let go of the toy and stopped pulling it. He laughed at the white hot, pleasurable misery that overtook Hal, watching with a cruel, sadistic grin. "Aw. Is that too much for you...? Too bad."

He looked up at him, his normally glowing red eyes dull with hypnosis and pain-laced pleasure. There were tears in his eyes as he tried to pull out, mewling pitifully from the overstimulation. His tail curled around him, trying to pry his cock from the toy.

It was no use for him, however, the toy was locked on tight. English went back to his paperwork, grinning to himself as he signed sheet after sheet, ignoring completely the agonizing overstimulation that Hal found himself in.

It didn’t take long before another, painful orgasm wracked his body, and his voice broke as he cried out. He was left shivering, his thighs and hips twitching from the stimulation, and broken sobs falling from between his lips. He opened his mouth to beg again, unable to find his voice. He couldn’t argue, he couldn’t beg. Or rather, he wouldn’t, not without permission to speak. All of his thoughts and instincts were pushed down and buried, leaving him submissive.

English seemed almost apathetic to Hal cumming again, giving an amused hum with no other acknowledgement. He was going to keep taking it for however long English wanted, possibly for hours, and there was no escape, no matter what. He was stuck in this loop of burning pleasure, and there was nothing he could do.

Hal shifted again, holding himself up to relieve the pressure on his arms. He was quiet other than his moans, tears hitting his legs and the table. His tail was tucked up against his waist. He moaned weakly, thrusting into the toy. He’d be good and please himself for his master.

He seemed surprised by this development, looking over to watch Hal with raised eyebrows. "Thrusting in all by yourself...? Good." He smirked, reaching over to give the toy a few more pumps, just to drive Hal extra crazy. "Good boy... Keep cumming. The bumps in there grow bigger and more restless when they get fed.~"

Hal moaned again, grinding against the toy. He liked being good, if he was good all the time, he figured he’d be happier. He leaned his head back, moaning loudly as another, shorter orgasm rushed through him. He shifted around a bit, despite feeling good, he felt empty. He wanted someone to fuck him.

That was exactly what English wanted him thinking, and he laughed as he watched Hal fall apart. If he was going to dare want more, though, he was going to have to beg for it. English didn't give gifts so easily.

Hal whined loudly, high-pitched and needy. His cloudy red eyes glanced over at English, and he shuddered at the sensation of being so submissive. “Sir...” he murmured. “I need— fuck, I need something in me.”

English raised a brow towards the other, grinning at him like a wolf. "You need something, hm?" He stood up, towering over Hal so he could get a good look at him. "Well, I do suppose I can oblige..." He bit his lip and thrust a large finger into Hal's mouth, probing at the back of his throat. "Like this?"

Hal shook his head slightly, trying to spread his legs more against the puppetry. He sucked on his finger anyway, closing his eyes as he whined out a muffled 'master'.

English just rolled his eyes- there wasn't much choice in the matter anyways. Hal's cock would keep getting suckled relentlessly as English shoved another finger into his mouth, scissoring them out to make him spread his jaw.

Hal arched his back, opening his mouth more. He worked his tongue along the length of each finger, moaning around them like a needy little slut. He wanted more, it was all way too much and not enough. English knew all too well that Hal wanted more, he wanted his needy hole to be stuffed, and that's exactly what he wasn't going to get. Instead, he got a third finger in his mouth, curling against his tongue, claws scraping dangerously close to the back of his throat. Hal writhed as he came again, tears spilling down his cheeks as he continued to fuck into the toy. He was needy and desperate, his thighs twitching and his cock aching from the pleasure.

The sight was beautiful, English thought, deciding to stick his fingers against Hal's gag reflex. He couldn't gag too hard, of course, or those claws would be right through his skin. English tried to fit another one in, but three was already far too much for Hal's lips, and he'd have to split them to manage a fourth. Maybe another time, he thought.

Hal gagged, his body lurching slightly. It took almost all of his focus to keep himself from being speared by English's claws. He was starting to run out of air, and cumming three times wasn't helping him stay conscious.

That, of course, was exactly the goal. English gave a cruel laugh before he pulled his fingers out- and while that may have felt like an act of mercy, soon everything was gone at once. A fourth orgasm wracked Hal’s body, and his consciousness finally flickered out. The lord was kind enough to let him collapse down onto the floor, into the puddles of his own cum and blood. He would be fine, of course. This was hell, not Satan’s fucking tea party. Hal would survive just fine. English went to the door without batting an eye towards the near-corpse on the floor. He could do with a cup of coffee before dealing with his next victim.

**Author's Note:**

> written by some dipshits. now go read assworms you filthy little gay


End file.
